Meanwhile, in the Multiverse

"No, shit, stop!" she pleaded. Gwen felt so flush and warm. "Please, fucking stop!" It might not have been so bad if it would just slow down a little, but it went even faster. "Ah! Ah! -- Whuh-What are you doing to me?!" she whimpered. She'd never felt this before. Why wasn't her spider-sense screaming? If it had just warned her, none of this would be happening...

She thought the costume cock was leaking some kind of slick ooze inside her until she realized all that wetness was hers.

Gwen obviously hadn't had a lot of sexual experience before this, but she'd been really inexperienced. Like, she had tried masturbating a couple of times and hadn't seen what the big deal was. It didn't help that she didn't have anyone to talk to about sex. George Stacy had The Talk with her while they were driving back from the RiteAid with an assortment of feminine hygiene products on the day she had her first period. Her dad had actually been pretty great about it. He hadn't acted embarrassed or like there was anything to be ashamed of about it. He just laid out the facts, gave his advice, expressed his personal hopes for her, and admitted she should probably talk to May, too.

But Gwen wasn't going to ask him about getting off. And by the time she was curious about orgasms, Peter had died, so she didn't think they could talk about that with May Parker. It's not like Peter had been her boyfriend or anything. They'd never even kissed. But Gwen now had plenty of evidence to suggest they could have gotten there eventually. And she would have liked that. Falling in love with her best friend in the world would have been amazing. Which was why chatting with his grieving aunt about how Gwen should best tickle her pickle seemed like a betrayal of some kind. That was supposed to be Peter Parker's pickle to peck. A very specific Peter Parker, mind you...

This was before Jessica Drew had come barrelling into her life like a sexual warrior saint, so that only left the girls in the band, and that was a non-starter. Glory Grant was all business, and Gwen suspected that Betty Brant had a bit of a crush on her -- which she found out was true about a year later when they kind of almost hooked up after a party about a month before she'd ditched her dimension to join up with the Spider-Society. Now that she really thought about it, Betty was exactly who Gwen should have talked to... As for Mary Jane Watson, the way she blathered on about her sex life made Gwen want to chuck the bitch off a bridge. Emjay had an OnlyFans page for fucksake!

All that to say, while Gwen had thought that she'd had an orgasm before, she had been wrong. When it happened for the first time at the manipulation of her malevolent living costume, she knew the difference.

You taste soooooo goooooood, the suit moaned, somehow slurping at the maw of her cunt... Did the symbiote have a mouth? The passion so sweet, the fear just delicious...

Gwen should have known things had gone too far right then and there, but when the suit did it again the next night and the night after that, she told herself she just didn't know what to do about it. This came up a lot in Symbiote Support meetings. The first of the eight legs in SS was acknowledging that the suit was a problem. The second was realizing that you weren't powerless against it.

"It made me eat so many pulled pork sandwiches!" Spider-Ham had once wept during a share. ** There will be no more Spider-Ham in this story! That's the only two times that name will be written. I might add the tag as a cruel joke, but I'm sorry, if you're hoping for sexy sausage puns while Peter Porker goes hog wild, you'll have to look elsewhere. I'm not sure this site would even let me do that! Not trying to kink shame you, just keeping it real. -LBD **

Looking back on it now after all this time, the truth was, despite how weird and wrong she knew it had been, Gwen let things go on for so long because she liked it.

She didn't like everything, though.

The symbiote's jealousy was out of control. By the time she knew she needed to get rid of the costume, it was in the habit of shredding every stitch of clothing she tried to put on instead of it. It'd destroyed Peter's "The Physics is Theoretical but the Fun is Real" T-shirt! The damn sludge wouldn't even let her wear panties! Gwen didn't want to imagine what the suit would have made her do if she'd been into a guy during their time together. If they only knew, she bet all the boys she'd met during her first few months at ESU would have been glad she was such a "frigid, uptight bitch." If she'd been wearing it now with Miles, she was pretty sure she'd be pegging the ultimate Spider-Man against his will or something... The symbiote was just that depraved...

It never seemed eager or able to please her unless she was at some kind of risk. Eventually she realized that's how it got off. That first time, it was enough that Gwen was scared. Her reluctance during those first few late night cram sessions kept it sated for a while, but once she got comfortable enough to enjoy it, the suit upped the ante. Threatening to use Gwen's other hole only worked once... That's when it started pulling shit like stimulating her out in public. Apparently, utter embarrassment was close enough to fear for the symbiote's tastes, so it picked the worst times to inflict these frustratingly mind-blowing orgasms... like during midterm exams

The costume was never more worked up and randy than when she was with the band, which was odd because it seemed like ALF really wanted her to quit. Whether it was one of those rare gigs The Mary Janes got that Gwen could actually show up for without Spider-Woman business getting in the way -- or even one of the thrice-weekly practices she could actually make it to without Spider-Woman business getting in the way -- just when they were really getting into the groove, cranked up to eleven, that's when the suit was horniest. Emjay would start singing and the costume would lose it, rippling against Gwen's skin like they were in a tsunami or something. At first, she assumed this was just how it danced or something, but apparently, her new boy-toy thought they had better places to be.

Take us away, Gwen, it begged. We'll feel so good together this time... Better than ever before... The suit's sweet nothings suddenly sounded so sincere. We'll do it just like you like it, Gwen...

More often than not, that had been an offer too good to pass up. The symbiote tended to assume things about Gwen that she knew couldn't be true, so she didn't exactly trust it, but it tended to be an amorphous parasitic organism of extraterrestrial origin of its word in certain matters. So she'd make up some lame excuse and leave early. Whenever she was willing to duck out on band practice, her sexy symbiote would carry her up to a nice private rooftop away from potential prying eyes and do exactly what Gwen wanted how she wanted with none of the wacky pranks of their usual hanky-panky time.

It's better when it's just us, isn't it, sweetness? it would coo in her ear, making these slow, gentle plunges into her core. We don't need anything or anyone else... Gwen would cum over and over until she told it to stop. Not all the noise...

Gwen assumed that the suit was always bum-rushing her away from the band because it was all hot for Emjay. The girl didn't have the greatest voice, but she could belt it out loud and proud with the best of them and even Gwen had to admit, nobody drew in a crowd quite like her. So she had no problem believing that even some inky stain from beyond the stars would get all riled up about Mary Jane Watson... just like every other stupid boy from this planet. That was back when she almost considered the costume a him, and Gwen hated to admit it, but she was actually jealous.

Those were the darkest of days.

As sad and pathetic as it was, Gwen cheered up when she discovered the symbiote was actually less of a fan of the Mary Janes' frontwoman than she was.

Why must that ginger trollop screeeeeech like some yowling bitch in heeeeeeat?! the symbiote demanded to know when they started rehearsing this new song Emjay had written. Gwen really liked this one. The lyrics were crap, but the beat was a banger, and there was a drum solo right at this point when you thought the song was over and it picked up again. Gwen loved bits like that.

Glory hated the title. "They're never gonna play a song called 'Fuck, Marry, Kill' on the radio," she pointed out.

"We're not in this for the glory, Grant," Emjay insisted, as if Mary Jane wasn't the type of girl who needed all eyes on her constantly. Gwen had mentioned the OnlyFans, right? "We're in this for the music." Watson had seen Almost Famous way too much as a kid. The fact that she was the first to admit it didn't help. "People need dramatic examples to shake them out of their apathy."

"That's not even close to what this is, Emjay," Glory sighed. "Saying fuck isn't all that dramatic."

"Maybe we can just switch it for boff," Betty suggested. She was the sensible one.

"No, because I rhymed a lot of words with fuck," Emjay explained. "Nothing rhymes with boff, anyway."

"Cough, doff, off," Brant rattled off. "You could use soft or loft if you go with a slant rhyme. Or maybe a reference to that old guy from Baywatch...?"

"This is why you're not a writer, Betty," Mary Jane sighed. "Let's take it once more from the top..."

Can't we just goooooo? the symbiote begged as Emjay counted them off. This band shit is a foolish waste of our time, Gwen! How don't your ears bleeeeeeeeed?! You're kiiiiiiilling us, Gwen! She just ignored it, pounding away at her kit. When she focused enough, she could do that much at least. She could prove to herself she wasn't a puppet attached to its gooey black strings. They were not the same person.

Gwen kept the beat while Mary Jane sang her heart out:

"Fuck, marry, kill!
"For now, for always, for the thrill!
"Am I the girl from next door?!
"Or some sexy thieving whore?!
"Am I the one that you keep?!
"Or do I take a flying leap?!"

Take us away, Gwen, the costume would beg. It should just be us right now, our world of two-in-one...

So Gwen let it happen again. Because those were the only times it wasn't just rough with her.

If things had just gone on like that, she would have probably quit the Mary Janes and still been wearing that thing. But the suit was never satisfied. It started teasing her while she was Spider-Woman, too. She'd just be swinging across town when it'd suddenly string her up, dangling her over some crowded street while whipping her ass and tits with its tenacles while it fucked her.

She assumed it would draw the line at pulling that crap while she was fighting the bad guys, but she was wrong about that, too.

"What were you thinking?" she asked after Electro was webbed up and her cunt finally stopped tingling. "We could have been killed!"

Oh, it's sooooooo sweeeeeet, when you say "we"... the symbiote moaned. But the danger's the point, Gwen... She hated the way it would just shrug in her mind. We need the thrill to make you feel the naughty things we both know you love... She hated that the suit thought she enjoyed the things that it did. She hated it more when it was true. You're still so tight, Gwen, but we fit together so easily. That was because it did these things to her all day, every day... Her pussy was used to it now...

She knew she needed to end things, but she didn't know how... Not until the suit finally went too far.

The day her father told Gwen that her mother had left them, he'd taken her to the Olive Garden in Time Square for some reason, so it had kind of become their place. So ten years later, when George Stacy, crack detective, was under the impression that she'd become distracted and distant lately, he'd taken his daughter to dinner so they could talk.

"Is it school?" he asked her as she gnawed on one in an endless series of breadsticks. "College can be a big change."

"School's fine, Dad," Gwen insisted. "J-just a liiiiiittle hectic these days."

"Well, maybe take some things off your plate," he suggested. "You do too much. College, a band, spending all this time with your old man. You're not Supergirl, you know..." Gwen's eyes rolled back. Not because of the dad joke. She'd heard worse. Her shorts had started kissing her thighs. She just nodded, biting her lip. "You sure you're okay, honey? Are you maybe... cold or something?"

She didn't know why he was asking until she glanced down. Her nipples were hard and poking out of her shirt.

Stop it, she thought. Or at least, thicken up. Gwen was pretty sure the stupid symbiote -- which had been feeling her up since she'd sat down -- could read her mind, but if it did, it never listened.

"Come on, Gwen," George said. "Talk to me. You always seem so restless these days. I hear you banging around at all hours on the nights you actually come home. I'm worried about you."

It should have been easy. Gwen had been chatting up her dad to prove she was present and engaged so they could clear the air while completely avoiding the truth for years. She had gotten really good at pretending everything was okay when it wasn't, but she'd never tried to do it while the parasitic alien lifeform pretending to be her shirt was molesting her.

Thankfully, that's when their food came, the perfect distraction.

You can't see it because you're afraid to make eye contact, but Daddy' staring at our boobies... the suit whispered as Gwen dug into her ravioli carbonara. It was squeezing her ass now. She glanced up at George, who was digging into his plate. He just looked away, but we know he was leering, don't we? It had to be lying. The symbiote lied all the time. She'd realized that much by now.

"So, uh, Dad, how's the Spider-Woman search going?" Gwen asked.

He stared at her, astounded. "I thought you were tired of me talking about that."

Gwen hoped she had convinced him she was tired of that because it'd become his favorite topic of discussion and he could just go on and on about it, not because he suspected she was the focus of his multi-year citywide manhunt.

Would Daddy have such a hard-on for Spider-Woman if he knew she was us? the symbiote pondered. Gwen told herself that he wouldn't. She told herself that, and hopefully she was telling her suit, too. Then maybe that big, wet raging hard-on is because deep down, he knows what a bad, bad girl we are, and he wants to spank us...

"Shut up!" she shouted, pounding the table.

George dropped his fork. "Excuse me?"

The creature stopped groping her -- it shrank back sometimes when she got angry enough -- so Gwen managed to recover. "I mean, shut up, Dad... I didn't say you could never talk about Spider-Woman again, did I?"

"I guess not," he agreed. "We've got some more patrols posted south. She's been spotted in Battery Park a lot more lately."

Great, Gwen fumed inwardly as he went on. Her favorite street meat vendor had moved down there for those Statue of Liberty tourist dollars. Now where was she supposed to eat?

"You sure you don't want me to grab you a sweatshirt or something out of the car?" George asked her out of the blue, somewhat uncomfortably.

Told you he was leeeeeering, hissed the costume. Its sickening grin filled her head. It was back to groping her breasts and pinching her nipples. Daddy's sooooo loooooonely, Gwen...

"Honey, did you hear me? I could, uh, even let you borrow my jacket."

"N-no!" Gwen squirmed. "I-- I don't want it right now..." she insisted. "Leave me alone!"

"Wow." George sat back, stunned. "Seriously, what's going on with you?"

She tried to calm down. "It's just that I'm actually kind of... haaawt right now..."

"Fine. You don't want a jacket. I get it." He paused before retaking his fork. "Is this one of those gender rights things I just don't get because I'm an old fart, because I'm trying, honey, I really am."

"It's not one of thoooooose things..." Gwen assured him. She gave him her best smile as the symbiote slipped a slim tentacle under the hood of her clitoris, one of their favorite tricks. "Is... is it okay if we just eat quietly for a bit?"

"Whatever you want." She could tell he was disappointed, but if she could just get through the next fifteen minutes, she'd make it up to him.

Gwen, don't be mean to Daddy, the costume scolded, diddling her button. Daddy just loves us... We should love him back, don't you think? She wanted it to stop, but she knew it wouldn't this time. Maybe tonight we'll crawl into his bed... Gwen wouldn't let that happen. You won't have a choice, because we both know the truth... She felt this wet mass in her lap. The costume had gotten so good at mimicking tongues, and those tongues spent so much of their time lapping at her lower lips... Gwen mulled running off to the bathroom, but she was afraid of what might happen. We know how much you still wanna be Daddy's special little girl, but we're all grown up now and Daddy clearly has neeeeeeds... If someone else was in there, things could get bad, but she was so much more scared that the restroom would be empty. Gwen didn't want to think about what her costume might do to her if they were alone. Georgie's such a big strong man, we have to assume he's got a big, strong pecker, too...

"F-fuck me..." Gwen quietly whimpered. She looked up. Her father hadn't heard her, thank God. It hadn't been a request. It really hadn't. She hadn't been talking to him or suit, she was just cursing... But the symbiote took it as such, forming a phallus and shoving it home. She almost choked on her pasta as it eased to and fro...

Yes, we'll fuck Daddy, Gwen! the symbiote shouted. We'll lick and suck his sweet meat to get him hard! He'll taste the juice of our forbidden fruit splash all over his face! He'll bite our itsy bitsy titsies with his teeth as we force him inside us! We're gonna ride dear Daddy's dick till it speeeeeews!!!

It was always the same thing every time the symbiote got her off... This creeping weight just below her belly like it had laid eggs there... Then those eggs burst open and there were thousands of spiders crawling all through her, teasing the tangled webs of her nerve endings as she bit back a howl of hot satisfaction.

And when Daddy's spent and broken, appalled he's spilt his filthy seed in the one wet hole he knew it should never go, WE'LL EAT HIS BRAIN!!!

"Gross!" Gwen shrieked, knocking her chair back as she shot up. She didn't care who saw the wet spot on her shorts, she was done.

"Something wrong with the ravioli?" George asked.

"T-Too spicy," she sputtered. "I... I'm sorry, Daddy, I have to go..." She was already leaving before he could say anything.

As Spider-Woman headed uptown, fleaing her beautiful agony at the Olive Garden in Times Square, the symbiote raged and ranted through her foggy mind. Gwen, you're acting crazy! the costume insisted. You have to calm down...

"Don't tell me to calm down!" she hissed. "You're some kind of monster!"

Damn, bitch, be cool! We like it a little bit rough, remember?

"You like it rough," she said. "We're not a thing anymore..."

You don't really mean that, do you? It's us against the world, Gwen!

The symbiote was fighting to slow her down now, stiffening to impede her movements, but she powered through. She knew some part of it was still tied to her will, she just had to stay focused. None of this had really been planned, but Gwen had been noodling on how to get this shit off of her for awhile. She assumed she might pick up on some kind of weakness when they were fighting the bad guys as one, but it ended up being so much more simpler than that...